All My Own
by NemKess
Summary: warnings: MPreg, slash (DMHP). All Harry ever wanted was a family he could call his own. Is that too much to ask?
1. Default Chapter

Title: All My Own  
Author/pseudonym: NemKess  
Fandom: Harry Potter  
Pairing: Draco/Harry  
Rating: PG13  
Status: WIP  
E-mail address for feedback:: nemsmuses@msn.com  
  


Disclaimers: Harry and Draco belong to me? I could only wish. Nope, not mine. This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended. 

  
Notes: I have no idea where this came from. It just wouldn't leave me alone though, so here ya go.  
  
Summary: Devastating news makes Harry believe that he will never have the one thing he's always desired above all else but a solution presents itself in the form of a desperate Draco Malfoy. 

  
Warnings: slash, male pregnancy, language, probably OOCness

~*~*~

Harry Potter, savior of the wizarding world, did not cry. 

It wasn't an ego thing, or a matter of principle. Quite simply, it had been ingrained into his head for as long as he could remember by his muggle relatives that he didn't deserve the release of tears. They were always quick to point out that no matter how bad he thought his life was, it could always get worse and that they'd be happy to help it along the way.

Later, he'd found the wonder of the magical world and it became something else altogether. Wizards and witches everywhere looked to him for their salvation. He was their hope and their symbol and he'd felt that crying would have been admitting failure and letting them all down.

When the savage pain of knowing the truth of his mother's last moments had nearly bowled him over, when the haggard face of a condemned innocent had offered him the hope of a new life only to have it torn away before he'd even come to terms with it, when his fellow Tri-Wizard champion had fallen dead at his feet because of his own foolishness he hadn't cried. Oh, he'd wanted to. With every fiber of his being he'd wanted to fall to the ground and howl in mindless grief. But he hadn't. 

For years now he'd held it inside and pushed on, determined to put right, all the wrongs he'd caused. 

And that's why it was a good thing that none of his friends could see him as he curled his knees against his chest in his infirmary bed, sobbing great ragged sobs, with no care or regard for the two teachers that watched him in concern.

Quite simply, everyone who knew the young man would have been convinced that Voldemorte had succeeded and that the world had come to an end. 

For Harry Potter, it might as well have.

"Come now, Mr. Potter. It will be all right." Madame Pomfrey patted him awkwardly on the shoulder, sad that she'd had to be the bearer of such bad tidings, but unsure why it was affecting the dark haired student as harshly as it was. It wasn't the first time she'd given the same to a patient and she doubted it would be the last. Never had anyone reacted so strongly, especially not the young men.

If the seventh year student heard her, he gave no sign.

"It's fine, Poppy. I'm sure you have other things tasks that require your attention."

Uneasy, she looked over at Professor Snape. Despite the command he'd given her, his own eyes had not left Potter. Of course, she could understand his concern. It had been to save him that the Gryffindor had put himself in harms way. It had been to save him that the boy had lost something that obviously meant a great deal to him.

"Severus?"

"I will deal with the boy, Poppy." He flashed her a sad, but determined look. "I'm hardly going to hurt him further."

With a small nod, she turned and left. For all that he was rude and obnoxious, Severus really did have a gentle heart and she had little problem in entrusting the boy's fragile psyche to him.

The potion's professor waited until he and the sobbing boy were alone in the infirmary. No matter how bad he felt, it would do lasting damage to his reputation if anyone were to see him trying to console Harry Potter of all people. 

Wincing, he shifted off his own bed and moved to sit on the edge of Potter's. For a moment he just sat there, debating with himself. Then he rested a hand on the shaking shoulder. "Potter?" There was no response so, hesitantly, he tried again. "Harry?" 

There was a whirl of motion and suddenly the man found himself with an armful of sobbing child. "It's not fair." 

Snape wasn't sure what to say. Life wasn't fair and the student currently drenching his robes should have known that better than anyone else. He hesitated a moment before wrapping his arms around the boy and awkwardly patted his head. "I'm sure it's not as bad as all that, Potter. Children are noisy and smelly, and all around pains in the arse. Perhaps for once Voldemorte did you a favor." 

"You d-don't un-under-s-stand." the Gryffindor managed to force out between his sobbing. 

"Obviously," Having no patience for stuttered babbling at the best of times, the man couldn't help the drolly sarcastic way the word ended up sounding. He just wasn't used to this comfort business. Still, he tried again. "Why don't you explain it to me." 

Face blotchy and wet, Potter pulled back and looked up at him for a second before looking away. The boy was making a concentrated effort on controlling himself, but it was mostly failing. While the noise was gone, rivers of tears were still sliding down either cheek. His voice was shaky at best when he spoke again. "All my life the only thing I ever wanted was a family that would love me. The kind of unconditional love that only comes from a parent or a child." His breath hitched again as he choked back another sob and it was a long moment before he continued. "I thought, for a while, that Sirius could be a parent of sorts." 

Something that had obviously gone awry with the animagi's untimely ending a few years before. Snape had never felt particularly guilty about having tried to get Black the Dementors Kiss back before he'd found out about Pettigrew; not even once he'd known the fugitive was innocent. But now, remembering that his actions had forced Black back into hiding when Potter had had the chance to have the parent he'd obviously wanted badly, Severus felt a twinge in the colder regions of his chest. 

"Black loved you. Even I knew that." It was small comfort, but all the potion's master could offer. 

The dark-haired boy nodded in acknowledgment. "He did. But I had hopes that I'd have children one day." There was a catch in his voice and Severus feared he'd start with the sobbing again, but Potter managed to keep the tears silent. "A family to love and be loved by. It's not really too much to ask.... Is it?" 

The Snape family had never been particularly affectionate or loving. Severus himself counted his blessings everyday that he'd never had to deal with fatherhood. The eleven to eighteen year olds that he dealt with every school year gave him regular migraines and he didn't even have to deal with them anywhere but the classroom where a dark scowl and the threat of horrid detentions kept most of them from mischief. He shuddered to imagine what life would be like with anything younger and even less controllable. A true nightmare, no doubt. 

Still, he could see that Potter didn't agree with that sentiment. That children were something the boy wanted. And while the thought of future little Potter's running around causing mischief was a nightmare in and of itself, he owed the boy. 

He owed the boy a great deal more than he could ever repay. 

The decision he made would no doubt come back to haunt him, but at that moment, it was the only one he **could** make. "Potter... There is very little that can't be done with the right potion, even if you have to invent a potion to get the desired results." The boy was completely quiet now, listening to the only words of hope his professor could offer. "It may take time, but I will find a way. All right? So. No more tears, they're more befitting a Hufflepuff than a Gryffindor. Stiff upper lip and all that nonsense." 

Potter managed a weak smile as he dried his face with the sleeve of his pajamas. It wasn't much, but it was a far sight better than having the Boy Who Lived crying all over his own infirmary wear. 

The injured and emotionally drained child was asleep soon after, leaving the Potions master to his own thoughts. 

He hadn't lied about potions. As he told every group of first years in their first lesson, the correct potion could give a person wealth, fame, and prevent death. It could also, though rarely done, allow a male to bear a child. 

However, Potter had stepped in between him and a killing curse. Stupid heroic Gryffindors. 

Madame Pomfrey's examinations showed the boy to be completely sterile and the potions he knew of were, for the most part, designed to allow homosexual couples children. When whichever of the pair had opted to carry the child took the required potions, used the required spells, it used the man's own sperm to transfigure an egg (or vice versus if it was a pair of females). There were a couple of other options, but none that were viable to Potter's case. 

But he'd promised and he had no intention of breaking his oath. 

Severus began to mentally calculate what all he'd need to recreate the existing potions, where he could get current research- both on male pregnancy and on curing sterility-, and how much time he could devote to the project. He would try to adapt the other potions first. If that failed, then he'd move on to something new. 

It would take time, skill, and hard work. It would probably be more challenging than anything he'd done in a potions lab since creating the wolf's bane potion. 

Luckily, Severus Snape loved a challenge. 

~*~*~ 

"Bloody Hell." 

Blaise Zambini merely shook his head at his friend. "That wasn't the smartest thing you've ever done, you know." 

His companion whimpered pathetically before throwing himself on his bed and pulling a pillow down over his face. "I know, Blaise. Believe me, I know." 

"I hardly see how lying to your father is going to help your situation, Draco. He's going to be right pissed when you can't produce this mystery guy by Christmas." 

The Malfoy heir didn't uncover his face, choosing, instead to make his rude reply with his finger. It was childish and vulgar of him, but at that moment, he didn't really care. 

His father's visit had been both expected and dreaded. 

With his birthday party still going strong up in the common room, Draco should have been enjoying himself. Instead, he was in the dorm room he shared with the other Slytherin seventh years cursing the fates, Salazar, Merlin, the gods, and whomever else he could think of- most especially his father, his grandfather, and every other Malfoy male that had ever come before him. 

Somewhere back in his ancestry, someone had gotten the bright idea to have the eldest son married off before he turned twenty. Someone else had been even more stupid in deciding that if the heir hadn't chosen his own fiancé by his eighteenth birthday, then the current head of the family would choose for him. Failure at securing a proper marriage would result in loss of inheritance. Even being the only surviving member of the family didn't allow for a waiver of the condition. 

His grandfather Tiberius had been a rebellious homosexual who'd refused to bend to convention and tradition. The head of the family at the time had been an uncle who had produced only females leaving Tiberius the only male Malfoy child to carry on the name. When his nephew had made it clear that he'd prefer to be homeless and penniless than submit to marrying any woman, the old man had taken the drastic measure of forcing the his heir to wed under the Imperious Curse. 

Wizarding marriages were magical contracts that could not be broken in any way. And Malfoy marriages were even more strictly bound. Because so many of the marriages were arranged, some even forced, part of the binding spells prevented either spouse from harming the other in anyway, up to and including infidelity and murder. 

Needless to say when old Tiberius had woken to find himself securely bound to not just any woman, but one he actively loathed, he hadn't been a happy person. He'd killed his uncle and severely wounded several of his cousins in his rage. 

In the end it hadn't changed anything. He was still married. He was still a Malfoy. 

He'd done his duty and gotten his wife pregnant, probably hoping the entire time that the first child would be male and he wouldn't be required to touch her again. Instead, the curse of having only girl children seemed to have befallen him as well. It had taken six such pregnancies before Lucius Malfoy had finally been born. Each year the man had grown increasingly bitter, and while he couldn't take his aggression out on his wife, his children had had no such protection. 

In the end his hatred and bitterness had driven him to an insanity which had broken all of the binding spells and he'd murdered his wife and all of his female offspring before Lucius had managed to kill him. 

It was a lesson that the current head of the Malfoy family had never forgotten and when he'd chosen his own future bride he'd made sure it was someone that he was at least moderately affectionate of. He'd advised Draco to do the same. 

Unfortunately, the Slytherin Seeker had inherited more from his grandfather than his sterling good looks and quick Quidditch reflexes. 

Draco stood to lose everything- the money, the properties, even his last name. 

His father was more understanding than previous Malfoy's had been and was willing to let him marry a boy on the conditions that whoever he chose was not destitute, of proper breeding, powerful enough to be worthy of the name Malfoy, and most importantly willing to bear children. He didn't want his own son to end up like Tiberius. However, his understanding only went so far and he'd declared that night that it was time for the choice to be made. Otherwise, he would end up engaged to Pansy Parkinson. The girl was a good friend, but Draco knew he'd never be able to touch her that way. He'd already tried back before he'd been completely sure he was gay. 

To stall his father, he'd sworn that he was already deeply in love and that they simply weren't ready to make any announcements. There were complications, he'd said. We'll work them out, he'd said. Don't worry, Father, we'll formalize it over the hols, he'd said. 

His father hadn't fully believed him, but had agreed to wait until the Christmas break. 

_Idiot_, Draco thought at himself now. Complete and utter Idiot.

Of course there was no such boy. While he was fairly certain that he'd shagged every gay or bi-sexual male from fifth year up, he'd never been serious about any of them. 

Now he had little more than a month to find someone that would be acceptable to himself **and** meet his father's criteria.

"What am I going to do, Blaise?" he asked, taking the pillow off his face to meet his friend's amused blue eyes.

The other boy grinned and shrugged. "Dunno, Drake. I personally would go live with Muggles before I'd ever subject myself to having a kid. Even yours."

Rolling his eyes, Draco stared up at the silver and green canopy of his bed. His own feelings were of a similar bent. He'd only ever met one pregnant wizard. The man had looked absolutely miserable, worse even than the pregnant witches. The male body simply wasn't meant for child bearing and though magic could be used to force the issue, nothing could make the body happy with those alterations. He wouldn't go as far as living with Muggles, but Draco could think of any number of unpleasant things he **would** do to avoid it. Including marry Pansy.

"You should talk to Professor Snape," Vince interjected from his own perch beside Greg, two beds over. Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle were as loyal of friends as any boy could ask for. More loyal, even, than the Weasel and the Mudblood were to Scarhead. Draco knew that nothing he did could ever make them turn their backs on him- something Potter couldn't say about his little hanger-ons. They weren't, however, the brightest jelly beans in the box and their answer to any dilemma was always to ask someone else's opinion. 

"Oh, and what's he going to do? Offer himself up in the name of house spirit?" 

Eww. Him and Snape? Now that was just plain scary. 

Draco groaned and tossed his pillow at Blaise. "Thank you, Blaise. That wasn't a mental image that I needed." 

His friend offered an unrepentant grin before tossing the pillow back. "What? You can't picture snogging our beloved potions master? I bet underneath all that sneering Slytherin cruelty there's a happy homey Hufflepuff just waiting to burst out. Just imagine, Severus Snape, he of the dark scowl and horrifying detentions, waiting at home for you dressed in a frilly pink apron and with a freshly stewed meal set out on the table." Blaise fluttered dark eyelashes and his voice took on a feminine singsong quality. " 'Oh Drakie darling! How was work? There's eye of newt stew for dinner and for dessert can I suck your-' " 

The blonde made gagging noises. "Oh please, stop! My night was bad enough already. Now I'm **really** going to have nightmares." 

The other occupant's of the room fell over themselves laughing at his traumatized look and after a moment, he couldn't help but join in the hilarity. 

Once they'd regained their control, Draco was shaking his head. "Professor Snape has been really busy since school started. I don't know what he's working on, but it's been sucking up all his free time." He glared at Blaise as the dark-haired boy snickered faintly at the mention of their head of house's name being mentioned in the same sentence with 'sucking'. 

Sometime over the summer their professor had been found out by Voldemorte as a spy. Nobody but the inner circle of death eaters knew the details and his father had been close-lipped about it at home. All he'd admitted was that Sev's treachery had been discovered and that the Dark Lord had ordered him killed. Potter had apparently saved the day yet again and two death eaters had died instead. Lucius had seemed torn between rage at Snape's betrayal and gratitude that his old friend had been spared- even if it was thanks to a boy he hated. 

Draco didn't know what to think. He'd grown up with Severus around and had always been fond of him. He'd always looked up to the man and now had found out that the man he'd admired so much wasn't the man he'd thought him to be. Part of him was disappointed but another part couldn't help but admire the man's courage in refusing to bow to anyone as well as his cunning in staying hidden for as long as he had. 

And he was as glad as his father that the man's life had been spared although the idea of being grateful for anything Saint Potter had done didn't set well with him. 

"Draco?" He was snapped out of his reverie by Greg's concerned voice. 

With a sigh, Draco stood and stretched. "Oh well. I suppose it can't hurt to ask. Even if he can't help me with the biggest problem perhaps Snape can help me figure out how to stall Father a little bit longer." 

The cheery encouragement of his friends followed him out of the room. Slippery Slytherin that he was, it wasn't too difficult to slip through the common room and past his housemates who were still enjoying the party even if the guest of honor was long since gone. 

"At least someone's having fun tonight, even if it isn't me," he muttered. 

As long as no one had touched his presents he supposed he didn't care. 

The walk to the Potions laboratory where Professor Snape had been spending most of his time lately was only a short walk from the Slytherin House, thankfully. Draco was anxious to share his burden with his mentor. He hadn't spoken to the man more often than absolutely necessary since finding out he was a spy and the blonde missed their frequent discussions and debates on the merits and lack thereof of various potions and other research projects. 

There weren't a lot of people out there who could carry on a decently intelligent conversation about the subject, and none who were as knowledgeable and passionate about it as Severus. 

His nose wrinkled as the thought made him recalled Blaise's joking comments. He liked the man well enough, and he supposed there could be a handsome man lurking underneath the bad robes and greasy hair but for once he had to agree with the Gryffindors. The idea of that greasy git as a sexual object was disturbing. 

As he neared the door to Snape's workspace, Draco stopped in surprise. Another student was already there. And not just any other student. 

Harry Bloody Potter. 

He watched silently as the pair went about the intricate process of potion making, their quiet murmurs never really gaining enough volume to reach the ease dropper's ears. They worked with the well oiled precision of two people who'd become quite used to one another, Potter showing far more competence now than he ever did in the actual classroom. 

The thought had hardly flittered unwelcomely through Draco's mind when the Gryffindor slipped and let out a curse as whatever had been in the vial he'd been carrying to the cauldron spilled all over his robes. 

The blonde Slytherin was hard pressed to suppress his mirth and the boy lay there staring up at the ceiling. 

Snape leaned over him with a malicious looking grin. "For all the grace you show on a broom, your a damned menace on two legs." 

"Oh hush," Potter muttered as he pushed himself back up into a sitting position. 

"At least it wasn't anything dangerous or expensive. Else I'd take house points and give you detention for your clumsiness." 

"At least it wasn't the nightshade sap. That might have been unpleasant." 

The professor snorted and helped the boy up. 

Draco couldn't believe what he was seeing and hearing. Snape and Potter being civil? Having a pleasant conversation? ** Joking with each other?** The world had obviously turned topsy turvy in the last few hours. 

"Why am I here again?" 

"Because you've a vested interest in my results, because you're getting extra-credit, and because you have nothing better to do until Madame Pomfrey says you can join Quidditch practice again." 

The Boy Who Lived sighed and shoved his glasses back up. "Oh yeah. Thanks for reminding me."

His sarcasm was lost on Snape who's attention was once again on whatever he was stirring. "You're welcome."

"I hope she lets me get in some practice before the Slytherin/Gryffindor match."

"Why? It's not like Draco's ever beaten you."

Before the listening Slytherin could storm in and demand that his head of house take the comment back- no matter how true it may have been- Potter was defending him. "But he's really good and if I don't practice Slytherin will probably win."

Pinching his arm, Draco winced at the sharp pain. Nope, he wasn't having a nightmare. 

Severus seemed to perk up a bit at that. "Really?" His face held a calculating expression as he glanced over the student. 

Potter was oblivious, or if he noticed the look, he chose to ignore it. "He spends too much of the game watching me. When he plays against the other teams, he pays attention to the snitch. That's why he wins against them and not me. And he flies like he's scared of getting hurt."

"Potter, compared to the madcap way you dash about, everyone flies like they're afraid of being hurt. You're even more reckless than your father and your godfather all rolled into one and **that** is saying something. I'm amazed the Headmaster hasn't grounded you permanently for some of your idiot stunts on a broom."

The idiot in question just grinned. "And just imagine, Professor. If I'm worse than my father, what do you think my kids will be like?"

The look of horror on Snape's face was worth having his flying demeaned, Draco decided. 

A growling sound had all three turning towards the wizarding clock on the head desk. 

Curfew.

"Off you go, Potter. You've potions first thing in the morning and if you oversleep and are late I will take enough house points to make up for my lenience this evening."

"Yes, sir. See you in the morning."

Slipping back in the direction he'd come from, Draco thought over the scene he'd just witnessed. He wouldn't have thought having Potter save his life would have mellowed the old man out any, but apparently it had- towards Potter at least. Snape was still a right nightmare for the average student. Yet the pair in the lab had been practically cozy.

Eyes widening, he recalled Blaise's teasing. Potter and Snape? Couldn't be. Lucius had made plenty of his own snide jokes about Severus's sexuality- or lack thereof. 

As he made his way into his dorms, Draco was too wrapped up in the new puzzle to realize that he'd completely forgotten about his own problem.

TBC

Author's Notes  
I don't usually write Mpreg fics. Don't usually read them either though I've nothing against them. But this was a damned persistent idea. The part from Draco's P.O.V. is unbeta'd. Sorry about that, but I've kinda lost contact with my HP beta and haven't had a chance to get anyone else. It is a WIP and one of the three HP fics that I'm working on right now. It's importance is slightly less than the other two though as they've been around and in public view for a lot longer than this. This only ever saw light in my LJ and on one ML. Anyways, I hope you like what I have so far and I'll work really hard to get the rest out! Thanks! -NemKess


	2. chapter 2

Title: All My Own  
Author: NemKess  
Warnings: See previous chapters

* * *

Snape was brooding.

They were deep into the school year. November had bled into December and Christmas was approaching.

Five months had passed and still, **still**, he hadn't solved Potter's little dilemma. Of course the Gryffindor in question didn't seem to be too discouraged by this small fact and always made himself available to help and play guinea pig to the various experiments. As long as they were working towards a cure, he seemed content.

Which was, of course, why Snape was brooding. Bloody Gryffindors. They were too optimistic for anyone's good.

Through a number of grueling and oft times painful experiments, they'd eliminated all existing potions and most of the variations that the potion's master had tried. Oh, they'd solved similar problems for a number of other witches and wizards out there. Their alterations had given other sterile and near-sterile couples a number of new, safer options.

But not one potion had worked on Potter.

"Hey, Professor Snape? Since I helped, will my name be added with yours on the patents?"

The professor gave his 'assistant' a sour look. "Of course, boy."

"Cool," Potter responded with a grin as he went back to working on his real homework. Transfigurations, if Snape wasn't badly mistaken. It was a wonder the brat was passing anything at all the way he split all of his time between the potions lab and the Quidditch pitch. It said something for his intelligence that Snape wasn't about to acknowledge out loud.

"Potter, I'm beginning to feel that the sterility induced by the curse is going to be as permanent as the scar on your forehead."

There was a mulish look on the boy's face that told Snape that he wasn't willing to accept that. "But-"

"Do not speak until I am finished, please." Potter still looked cross, but at least he remained silent. Perhaps it was merely a side-effect of having spent so much time during the current school year with the most reserved professor Hogwart's offered, but Potter had finally learned a measure of self-control over his emotions and his mouth. It pleased Snape to no end and he'd have been delighted to take credit for the restraint if anyone had bothered asking about it. "Should that be the case, then our only recourse will become to focus on alternate means of procreation. Are you willing to actually bear the child you want so badly?"

It was an important question to answer now before they wasted valuable time looking in those directions. Very few wizards were ever truly willing to put themselves through it.

Thus far he'd been trying to alter the existing potions to cure Potter with disappointing results. The magic residue that the Arvada cadavera curse had left in the boy's body had rejected every attempt to get his system to produce sperm.

Perhaps it would be easier to simply expound upon them, do a little more research in possibilities in ovary transfiguration. But it could be several more months worth of work and he wasn't going to commit himself to it if Potter was going to back out now at the very thought of male pregnancy.

Not, of course, that Snape would blame him if he did. Who in their right minds would really go through all of **that** just to produce a snot nosed little brat to carry on his name?

The seventh year was idly running his finger over his school book and didn't look up as he answered the question. "There isn't a lot that I wouldn't be willing to do."

"You understand that pregnancy for a male is a far more difficult and painful process than for a female? Few wizards dare try it and a good half of them die. Is it worth it to you, even knowing that you might die and leave a child alone in the world.... As you were?"

"Doesn't it take two, even in male pregnancy?" Snape suspected the wide-eyed innocent look was just to distract him from the fact that Potter was ignoring the rest of the issue.

"It does. And that's another matter, isn't it? Assuming that you're the 'mother' in this scenario, you'd need a 'father' as well. Who would it be? It will be no walk in the park for your chosen partner, any more than it will be for you. More than just sperm, he'll more than likely be called upon to donate magic as well to keep things stable and to prevent the curse's residue from simply washing the whole mess out of your body as it did with your own sperm. Besides which, they'll have to deal with you at your absolute worst and weakest. Protect you when you can't protect yourself. Who do you know who'd be willing to undergo this with you? Weasley? Please, he's far too squeamish. Longbottom? With his bad luck and bumbling ways, we might as well kill you now and save you both the trouble. Perhaps you should think more on it before we continue."

Potter sighed and grew serious. "I have thought about it, Professor. I've thought of little else since this summer. I'm willing to do what I have to for a family. Maybe it'll take a while to find someone who'll be willing to do this with me, but that just gives us plenty of time to work out the rest of it."

Snape gave the boy a hard stare, but was met with an equally unflinching gaze. He shook his head and turned back to his cauldron. Part of him couldn't help but admire the boy's steadfast resolve even as he questioned his sanity. "Salazar save us from stubborn Gryffindors who've made up their minds."

The Gryffindor in question just chuckled faintly and went back to scribbling out his transfiguration work.

Having potions first thing in the morning had always been a bright spot of being in his years at Hogwarts for Draco. He loved potions, much to his parent's bemusement and disgruntlement. His father had always hoped he'd go into politics or some other suitable aristocratic career. His mother would have been perfectly happy if he'd chosen a life of leisure wallowing in the Malfoy fortune.

Instead, he'd decided on the very first day of first year that he was going to be a potion's master. And not just **any **potion's master. He'd be the greatest that ever lived.

Let it never be said that a Malfoy didn't have high goals.

This year had been a little different of course. In light of Snape's defection and the mixed up emotions he had about it all, Draco had been especially cranky on those mornings when he had to get up and face the man in a classroom for two hours straight. It made it hard to ignore the swirling emotional mire. This was a man he both respected and scorned, liked and hated. He felt horribly betrayed to know that he hadn't really known this man at all and yet, at the same time, he still felt the fierce loyalty he'd always felt.

It was horribly confusing and he's spent the early part of the year trying to avoid Snape whenever possible. The only time he couldn't was during potions and most of the other students had learned to give him a wide berth those two morning a week.

Since his birthday, however, that had changed. Potions became the one opportunity of the day to study both Potter and Snape and their less than hostile interactions with one another.

Some days, he was absolutely sure that his horrified suspicions were correct and the pair were shagging like mad behind closed doors. Others, he wasn't sure of anything. In order to figure out the puzzle placed in front of him, he also started watching each of them separately.

One odd side-effect of his close observation of the pair was that he was starting to notice things about Potter he never had before. He'd noticed, for instance, that while the prat was undeniably close to the Weasel and the Mudblood, he always held himself apart from them. Oh, Draco doubted they- or any of the Gryffindors for that matter- really realized, but he found it to be glaringly obvious to anyone who bothered to watch the trio for more than five minutes. He'd also noted that the only time Potter seemed to be completely at peace was on his broom. Even in the middle of the Gryffindor-Slytherin Quidditch match with bludgers flying every which way and Draco's team doing their level best to send the dark haired seeker to the infirmary in pieces, Potter's face had fairly glowed with contentment and peace. It was... disconcerting.

Draco played Quidditch because it was the only truly acceptable wizarding sport and because he really, really wanted to beat Potter. And while Potter had been undeniably happy when he'd been carried off the pitch on his team's shoulders after their victory, his face had lost that glow the second his feet hit the ground. Harry Potter liked winning, but he really only played Quidditch to fly. Flying was the part he truly loved.

There was a scroll hidden away in his satchel filled with nothing but notes and observations of Potter, Snape, and Potter-and-Snape. Even if he didn't recognize it himself, he'd become more than a little obsessed. It was just a hobby as far as he was concerned, and a damned good distraction from the woes of his own love life.

When Snape swept into the classroom on that particular morning, Draco's hands fairly itched to fetch out his scroll. Potter hadn't shown up for class and the entire Gryffindor side of the room had a panicky worried sort of look that really caught his attention. Sitting in the front corner of the class closest to the teacher's desk, Draco was also sure that he'd seen a similar worried look on Snape's face before it was composed into it's usual cool sneer and turned onto the other students.

Interesting.

Before anyone could say anything, Granger's hand was up in the air. The chit looked near tears.

"What is it, Granger?" Snape snapped.

She took a look around the class and then in a bold move that showed the backbone and stupidity that had obviously gotten her sorted into the house of the Lion, she stood and hurried up to the professor's desk. "Sir, Harry's missing!" she hissed in an undertone that Draco had to strain to hear. "He didn't come back to the dorms last night and no one knows where he is and Dumbledore-"

"Enough! Twenty points from Gryffindor for being a nuisance." Snape wasn't nearly so quiet as he silenced her with a glare. He did lower his voice as he continued. "I am very well aware of where Mr. Potter is, Ms. Granger. He is in the infirmary and I'm sure you will be allowed to visit the brat at lunch. But until then, I suggest that you sit down and be silent."

Poor Mudblood didn't seem to know whether she should be glad for the information, offended at the loss of points, or upset to know just where Potter was, Draco thought with a smirk.

She wavered for a moment before hurrying back to her seat to share the news with the rest of her dorm mates.

Draco nibbled the end of his feathered quill for a moment as he considered this new bit of information. Potter had met with Snape the night before, he knew. He'd tried to spy on them, but the door to the laboratory had been warded and he'd been unable to see or hear anything that had gone on. In the end, he'd given up and gone back to bed. Too soon, apparently.

Potter was in the infirmary, and Snape knew why. Even more so, he had to be deeply worried to actually show even a glimmer of it in class where anyone paying attention could see it.

Very Interesting.

He made a mental note to take the long route to the library after class- most of the Slytherins had a study period after Potions- and see if he couldn't find out more at the infirmary. Pomfrey was worse than a big guard dog, but even she got distracted sometimes.

For the moment, he turned his attention back to his class work. Brilliant potion masters didn't get that way by neglecting their studies after all.

TBC

Author's Notes

* * *

First of all, I've actually had most of this since October, but I've only just gotten around to finishing it up and tweaking it. It's been one of those more difficult fics, because my HP muse is a fickle creature who comes and goes as the spirit moves him. This is also somewhat slow becuase I'm trying to concentrate on 'Betrayed' a little more. I'd like to actually finish that one some day and it has a lot more fic to go. 'All My Own' on the other hand, should not end up being more than 10-15,000 words. I know I left this off at a spot that leaves a ton of questions, not the least of which is why Draco isn't focusing more on his own problems. Quite simply, he's procrastinating with a "If I don't acknowledge I have a problem, it'll go away" sort of mentality. His fellow Slytherins won't let him get away with it for long. So, no worries. I'd also like to thank all the offers for beta reading. While I may end up taking some of you up on it eventually, at the moment my good friend Oppy is beta'ing this for me. Of course, I've added to it since she sent it back to me, so there are probably still quite a few mistakes. .;;; oops?

I had a bunch of individual reviewer notes, but they got eaten in my compy, unfortunately. is sad Perhaps next time?

Thanks for reading and I hope you continue to enjoy!

NemKess


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